


Lunchtime Revelations

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Coming Out, Lunch Dates, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 02, rating is for swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26934010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: Martin invites Jon out for lunch. It goes surprisingly well.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 48
Kudos: 432
Collections: Repulsed/Averse Ace Jon Archivist





	Lunchtime Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Saturday updates continue! I’ve got a backlog of oneshots I wrote while posting “A Matter of Diplomacy,” so I’ll be posting those over the following weeks.

Martin knocked softly on the door of Jon's office, pushing it opened a crack and poking his head around the frame.

"Knock knock!"

Jon's head whipped up, and one hand scrabbled for the folder he had been reading, dragging it off the surface of the desk and into one of the drawers. He shut the drawer with a click, giving Martin a terse nod that was nowhere near as innocent as it was meant to be.

"Martin. What do you want?"

Martin forced a smile, aiming for humor. "You're supposed to say, 'who's there?'"

Jon frowned at him suspiciously. "What?"

He sighed. "Nevermind. I was just going to go grab lunch and I wanted to know if you wanted to come with."

Jon frowned at him for a few seconds more before nodding. "I'll meet you by the main doors, I need to grab my jacket."

"Great." Martin shut the door behind himself as he left.

It was... bad. He wanted to say it was  _ getting  _ bad, but the truth was it had been bad for a while and was only continuing true to form. Jon's paranoia was insidious, seeping through the Archives and poisoning everyone's relationships, driving wedges between them when they ought to be banding together.

And Martin  _ understood, _ he did, he wanted to know who had killed Gertrude just as much as Jon did.

...Well, maybe not  _ quite  _ that much.

But he wasn't so far gone as to start suspecting his own coworkers - his  _ friends  _ \- of being murderers. Tim was dealing with his own trauma in the aftermath of Prentiss's attack, shutting down and shutting everyone out as he tried to cope. Sasha was as she had ever been, cheerful and industrious. Neither of them were acting suspiciously, no matter how much Jon seemed to think they were.

And Martin himself was just trying to keep his head down, and stop his boss from going insane.

He was lucky Jon was still willing to come out to lunch with him, though he suspected that had more to do with Jon's conviction that the food in the Institute's canteen could be poisoned by anyone who chanced to walk through than any true desire to spend time with him.

Jon met him by the doors a few minutes later, shrugging into his jacket and glancing over his shoulder to check if he was being followed. Martin sighed again.

"Ready to go?"

Jon nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way.

They walked in silence, staying close to each other and ducking around other pedestrians to avoid getting separated in the lunchtime rush. Martin tried not to make it too obvious that his face was twitching into a smile every time Jon's shoulder brushed his own.

They went to the café closest to the Institute, placed their regular orders, and sat down at a corner table as they waited for the food. Again, Martin fought to keep a smile off his face as it occurred to him that this was  _ their  _ table - they always sat there, and had been coming out for lunch together often enough that "always" actually meant something. It was a routine.

And if the table happened to have the best view of the door and a good eye on the people behind the counter.... if it coincidentally was nearest to the fire escape and easy to get away from in a pinch... well, that didn't detract from the fact that it was a routine. Just an extremely paranoid one.

Jon's eyes flitted around the café, never settling on any one spot long enough to get caught staring.

"So...." Martin said, in an attempt to distract him. "Anything interesting in the new cases you've been looking into?"

Jon's eyes snapped back to him with an intensity that would have been breathtaking if it wasn't so shaded with suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Martin took a deep breath, considering his options. He  _ meant  _ anything related to their  _ actual job, _ not the paranoid digging Jon had been doing into their personal lives, but Jon was unlikely to believe that. "...Never mind. Do you have any plans for the weekend?" That felt innocent enough for even Jon to let it pass.

Jon's frown deepened. "Why do you want to know?"

Damn. "Just making small talk," he sighed. "We can sit in silence glaring at our fellow customers if you'd prefer."

Jon had the grace to wince at that. "I'm not- fine." He closed his eyes for a moment, then crossed his arms on top of the table and gave Martin a forced smile. "Small talk. I  _ do  _ have weekend plans. Do you?"

Martin smiled back at him, and it was only a little bit forced himself. "I've been watching a documentary that I'm hoping to finish up. I doubt you'd want to hear about it, though, it's about the place spiders hold in the Australian ecosystem."

"Definitely not." Jon shuddered.

"What are your plans, then? If you don't mind sharing."

"Oh," Jon said, suddenly shifty. "It's, uh, I'm working on- it's kind of personal, I'm helping- it's personal.”

"Paranoia personal, or actual personal?"

"I'm not-" Jon glared at him. "I'm just helping the police with some of their investigations, Martin, I'm not  _ paranoid." _

_ Oh. _

Martin's heart sank. Tim had said something about that; well, not so much said as  _ implied. _ With waggling eyebrows and a very suggestive grin. Martin had laughed it off at the time, figuring it was just Tim being Tim - and rather glad about that fact, as Tim had  _ not  _ been acting like his old self much recently - but if Jon was saying the same thing...

"R-right," he said. "Tim mentioned something about that. Off- off the record, he said?"

"Oh, christ," Jon said, sounding dismayed. "He told me he wouldn't tell anyone."

Martin's heart sank further. "So it's, ah, true, then? You and Officer Hussain are...?"

Jon groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "What did he tell you?”

"O-oh, well, I mean..." he tried to laugh, but it came out thin. "He just..."

"No, look, it's-  _ god," _ Jon interrupted, dragging both hands back through his hair and giving Martin a look that mingled frustration and confusion. "I'm  _ just  _ helping her! I don't know why he went  _ there, _ it's- it's-  _ why?” _

A wave of immense relief swept over Martin. "Oh, so you two aren't...?"

_ "No!" _ Jon shook his head. "That's so far from-" he stopped. Sighed. Leaned forward over the table on one arm and reached out with the other to grab Martin's sleeve. Gave him an earnest look, eyes wide. "L-look, just- don't tell Tim, okay? He can- he can think what he will. It's probably better that way, I can't trust him not to interfere with the investigation if he believed the truth.”

That brought... mixed emotions. On the one hand, Jon distrusting Tim was very bad. On the other, it implied that he  _ did  _ trust Martin, or at least trusted him not to interfere, and that brought with it a warm glow of happiness that he was loath to taint with any more complicated feelings. Also, Jon's fingers were still twisted in his sleeve, and his knuckles were brushing Martin's wrist where the material rode up a bit.

Jon sighed, and his face was close enough that Martin could see the light glinting off his eyelashes as they flickered closed for a second. "Christ, it's just- why'd he have to go  _ there, _ you know?"

Martin chuckled slightly, warmer and fonder than he had intended. "Well, you know Tim. Always jumping to the, ah, most  _ scandalous  _ conclusion."

Jon shuddered. "Yes, I suppose. Just, the idea of-" he grimaced. "The idea that he thinks I'm  _ hooking up," _ he continued, saying the words with disdain. "It's... bothersome."

Martin raised an eyebrow, daring to tease. "You didn't strike me as the prudish sort."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't object to  _ other people _ hooking up, Martin, just to people thinking of  _ me  _ in that context."

Martin blinked in surprise, and Jon shook his head to dismiss the subject, glancing over at the counter to see if their food was ready. It was taking longer than usual, today: they'd managed to hit the worst of the lunch rush, and the staff looked a little overwhelmed with the number of people in line.

It was true that Jon had never struck him as the prudish sort. Before everything had gone to hell he'd been known to laugh along with Tim's stories of some of his more extravagant exploits, never batting an eye at the anecdotes about past partners and the fond memories they shared, no matter how…  _ open  _ Tim was about the particulars of those memories.

It occurred to Martin, though, that Jon had never joined in on these conversations. Sasha had a few experiences of her own to share, and even Martin had an  _ opinion  _ on whether or not he'd willingly participate in similar situations (if he'd ever had the time for a relationship, or if anyone had ever been interested...), but Jon had always looked slightly uncomfortable when the questions got directed at him and quickly changed the subject.

Martin had always assumed he just wasn't the sharing sort, but in light of this new information he was rapidly revising his judgement.

And there had been that one time, hadn't there, when Martin was living in the Archives and Jon had stumbled in early and unaware of the world, wrapped in a jacket that clearly hadn't been worn in over a decade...

He spared a moment more to feel guilty for some of the thoughts  _ he'd  _ had about Jon over the years, then cleared his throat. "Jon, are you..." he trailed off, unsure if asking would be crossing a line.

"Hm?" Jon startled slightly, tearing his gaze from the crowd by the counter.

"Sorry," Martin said, already regretting this. "It's just- and we don't have to talk about it, I just remembered- I mean, I didn't recognize it, I didn't- I'm  _ still  _ not quite sure I know what it means-" Jon was giving him a look of mixed impatience and amusement. "A while ago, you came into work in an old jacket that had a couple of pins on it, and- and I know you took them off and we  _ don't  _ have to talk about this, like I said-"

"Martin." Jon's voice was steady, grounding.

"Right, sorry." Martin took a deep breath. "Um. One of them was- was purple, I think? Striped, with black and white? It- it looked like a pride flag. And I know there's a word- I don't  _ know  _ the word, but-”

"Asexuality." He said it with surprising gentleness. His hand tightened on Martin's sleeve, and Martin realized with a start that he had never let go. "Yes, it's- I never expect people to recognize the flag." He bit his lip, looking almost shy. "I'm- I'm rather surprised you did."

"W-well, I- I  _ didn't, _ really, I just recognized it as  _ a  _ flag." Martin was finding it rather hard to breathe, with Jon looking at him like that.

"Yes." He was smiling now, though it was small. "Asexuality. Um. Y-you can look it up, if you like."

Another wave of warmth swept over Martin. He would have looked it up anyway, but the fact that Jon was saying that meant he  _ wanted  _ Martin to know. Even if he was uncomfortable discussing it himself. "I will."

A wider smile spread across Jon's face for a moment, and he dropped his head to hide it. His fingers twitched on Martin's sleeve as he finally noticed he was still hanging on. "Oh- sorry," he said, and let go.

Martin felt himself flush. "O-oh, yeah, no problem." He winced as his voice spiked unfortunately high.

Jon glanced away, clearing his throat. "Back to your original question, then, I  _ do  _ have weekend plans. Off the record, need-to-know-basis plans."

Martin sighed, rolling his eyes. "Fine, fine, I won't press. Do you  _ ever  _ take a break, though?"

Jon raised his eyebrows. "I'm taking a break right now, aren't I?"

"Stepping out to lunch with a coworker once a week isn't exactly taking a break."

"It is an enjoyable activity solely for the purposes of personal pleasure and social connectivity, with no financial or career-based gain," Jon said, as though it were obvious. "What more do you want from a break?"

Martin blinked. "Enjoyable?"

"Well, yes. Why else would I be here?"

"Oh." Another shot of warmth spread through Martin's core: Jon  _ enjoyed  _ their lunches together. "I was, ah, always under the impression you only came out under extreme duress," he chuckled.

Jon took a quick breath, then let it out slowly, frowning. "Ah. I'm... sorry that I've given that impression." His fingers tapped against the tabletop. "I, uh... I do enjoy spending time with you, Martin."

"Right." Martin could feel his smile turning unbearably fond. "I, um. I enjoy spending time with you too, Jon."

Jon bit his lip, meeting Martin's eyes across the table. He seemed on the verge of saying something.

There was a call from the counter, one of the staff calling out their names to signal that their food was ready.

Jon looked away hurriedly, clearing his throat again. "I'll get that, you stay here."

Martin leaned back in his chair, keeping an eye on Jon as he made his way across the café to pick up their order. He was vaguely disappointed Jon hadn't had a chance to articulate whatever thought it was that had made him stare at Martin so intensely.

Still, though.

He watched as Jon glanced back over his shoulder, sending a brief smile Martin's way.

This conversation had been so enlightening already, and they hadn't even started eating. He now knew so much more about Jon than he ever thought he would. And Jon enjoyed spending time with him.

There was a hell of a lot going wrong in their lives right now. But, Martin reflected, it seemed that for today, things were going very right indeed.


End file.
